Insanity Pains
by Si.Bemol
Summary: Insanity Pains  a real pain in the arse  - A small one-shot depicting all the bad mouths revolving around the youngest of the Evans and how he ends up dealing with it. AU


_Insanity Pains (a real pain in the arse)_

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><p>The only thing deadly in Death City were the tortuous roads – uneven and asymmetrical as river reflections on a rainy day.<p>

Sweet rays of fading sunshine, the last ones of the day, warming the town like the arms of a dear mother. All the lamps on the street faltered and then shined over the heads of the passer by's, providing more light than necessary but not enough for being unwanted.

The temperature is good in the twilights, and even though the laughing moon and sun appear more daunting (or annoying?) here, no one seems to mind. The shops have everything, the security is one of the best, the good life only has one way up…

And town's folks spread their conversations like diseases.

"_Hey, isn't that the Evans boy?__" _An old lady, probably at her seventies, talks with knowing in her voice to her equally older friend._ "The younger one, he plays the piano. He's so charming! But those clothes don't suit him at all. Back at my days, the Evans household never allowed such degrading outfits. Oh my, how times change…"_

Soon enough, the night will make a silent entrance and force citizens into the cosines of their homes, struggling with their stomachs while waiting for a meal that will surely come. Everyone seems to pay a great deal in keeping daily schedules, even though most of them involve dinner at ten o'clock for some bizarre reason that Soul Evans fails to comprehend.

"_Oh. My. God. Is that who I think it is? C'mon, grab the phone before I lose him! Julie is going__ to be soooo pissed when she finds out who I saw today." _A black haired, slender girl grabs a device from her company's hands and takes a picture.

Probably a traditional reason, either way he doesn't find interest in discovering things like that. Studying is not his thing, nor is he willing to pick up a book just to find out why everyone likes to eat at a certain time. Gahh, why is he thinking of such things right now anyway?

A boy passed by him and bumped his shoulder with his arm, quickly turning his head to his mate he whispered. _"Look at the rich boy acting all prissy. Bet I can give him a good one next time I catch him at school."_

The other boy replied with a snicker. _"Yeah right, like his face could get even worse."_

Maybe because he just stomped out of his house not caring about the consequences and knows that deep down, he should. Because his mind is so messed up that the only way of keeping it sane and alive is to beat around the bush of normality of an old man with nothing more to do.

"_I heard something interesting about that boy Sally." _A man whispers to his wife as she turns to look at him in wonder. _"The Evans concert on the 12__th__? It runs around that it ended badly after he played."_

"_Really?"_ She whispers back in sheer surprise. _"The youngest always plays last, isn't that right?"_

The man nodded. _"Thing is, he __**scared **__the audience with his music…"_

The white haired male pays no attention to sideways conversations, _especially _if it involves him. But he can't say that it doesn't bother him, because it does, a lot actually. So he has decided: be himself and let the rest label him like they please. Thus him being dressed in tramp clothing and wandering in the streets of Death City trying to escape his mother's and father's claws.

"…_of pure insanity."_

What do they know about him anyway?

Soul Evans the mad one, the outcast, the monster of his relatives. The name that runs from mouth to mouth is his, the aura that everyone seems to avoid comes from his soul, and he is mostly mentioned by mothers who blackmail their stubborn children into eating their carrots.

One recital was the only anomaly in his lifespan. One performance in which he was allowed to play something of his own accord, directly from his mind – a common passage in the family circle. He never knew his playing to be as atrocious as people made it to be, but now that he does, he takes care. Alas, it means _trying_ not to give a shit of what reaches his ears.

But words sometimes sting stronger than actions, and in his case they can be referred to as failed attempts. There have been efforts, steps that he vaguely takes forward to clear his head but all in vain. He has talked with friends, gone as far as to mop around some corners and discharge his negative energy with his fists.

Needless to say, he kept hoping for a different outcome.

His steps reached a halt at the limits of the city, the mass of forest gathered at the borders a well know area for the white haired teen. The place was a sanctuary, his recurred local when too much thought gathered inside the confinements of his head. The trees greeted him with familiar waves of leaves as he continued to roam further into the woods, searching for a nice nest to sit, lean and forget about everything until the air becomes to cold and his stomach groans from lack of attention.

Surprise etched his features at the sight of a female resting with a piece of literature on her lap, the distance being only five meters from his form. She looked at peace, her eyes closed with exhaustion and her head leaned against the solid wood of a tree.

And with nothing better to do in mind, he walked to her side and allowed his legs to cross while dropping next to the girl.

Of course, she uncomfortably shifted. "Of all the places to sit, you have to lay your lazy ass here?"

He scoffed. "Move over if you want."

From the corners of his eyes he saw her petite face redden with anger. He's in a fowl mood so he can't help but be impolite, and he doesn't know why but the thought of messing around with flat-chested girls wearing twin pigtails seems to etch in his head as a form of well needed entertainment.

He turns his head with a grin, clearly mocking the female that suddenly felt so familiar to him. She, however, sucks a deep breath to regain a calm voice. "Do you even recognize me Soul?" She deadpans.

In all honesty, her face seems familiar, but he fails to fully recognize her.

Besides him, he hears a sign of indignation. "Never mind. Hey, what's wrong?"

It takes a while for him to notice that his usual playful words aren't escaping his mouth like they usual do and if she really knows him, then she understands the deep changes that he reserves for his alone time. His grin has been replaced by a frown and his hand keeps running frenetically through his bleached hair. The truth is that he's more disturbed over the fact that he remembers her, and at the same time he doesn't.

"You know…" She continues, even though he's listening half-heartedly. "…talking helps most of the times. I know how you feel – frustrated, irritated with the world… It's really harsh when everyone talks like they know you."

"Like you would know." He scoffs yet again. "Don't force yourself, drop it."

She gives him the 'you-sat-next-to-me-but-avoid-my-conversation?' kind of face and raises her book only to drop it again with full force on his skull. "MAKA-CHOP!" He owls and clutches his head with desperation, not understanding the sudden reaction. To further widen his bloody eyes, she calmly opens her book and raises her knees to support it while folding her arms over her belly.

Ohhhhh! Now he remembers!

Her name is Maka, and she is the nerd-verm of the Academy. The typical one actually, the one that arrives ten minutes early before every class, sits at the front seats and answers promptly to every question thrown by the teachers with a raised arm and clear voice.

Her lunch time is spent – imagine that – reading books. Gossip goes around that she carries them only to use them as weapons, because she has the 'mania of persecution' and likes to hit boys on the head, thinking that they are flirting shamelessly with her when in reality they try to do the opposite.

And he, even though full of shame, goes with the flow and throws and insult or two at the bookworm from time to time. Because she was just begging to be mocked with her nerdy ways and book-loving nature, still, she has friends that like her for who she is, while he roams the streets of Death City, haunted by grief, alone, because none of his were _available_ at the moment.

"I think your music is beautiful." Maka cuts his thoughts after a moment in silence, like a sharp knife; the air momentarily leaving his lungs longer than usual as he gasped at her words. "I don't care what people say, I really don't."

She's blushing madly when he shifts to have a better look at her; her cheeks are so red that it extends down her neck in an adorable way and her bottom lip is trembling slightly. She notices his gaze and looks away – suddenly having Soul Evans staring at you in such an admiring way was something she never experienced before.

"But d-don't – I'm not that good at music you know!" She chokes out too quickly for him to understand all her words. "I-I don't play any instrument and the only class that I fail is music and everyone says that I'm a tone deaf!"

Soul's eyes don't leave her face and he continues with that goofy smile.

Maka puffs her chest. "I can't understand music by hearing! And I try to read about it to know it better but – you know what? I'm pretty straightforward with what I say and – _hugh_ – just, stop looking at me already! I'm only trying to be polite!"

He laughs with amusement, unfolding his arms and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Calm down, I don't bite."

Her green eyes fix on his mouth and then at a random imaginary spot on the grass. "But I really mean it." She lowers her already small voice with hazy eyes. "Your family's music is so _boring_ and you suddenly showed up and played something… something so - so _interesting_. But that's my opinion, and you shouldn't pay much attention to what I say when it comes to this."

Soul hums to himself, admiring the way Maka nervously plays with her thumbs. "I like your opinion." And he does, because when it comes from her mouth it doesn't sound as fake as when it comes from others, even if she is a complete zero in the music department and what she says is a complete lie – but at the same time she makes it sound so unmistakeably real. "So... interesting hmm?"

"Y-Yeah."

He takes a moment to ponder his options: it's getting dark, they're in a forest (alone), the nerd probably hasn't eaten anything and her petite frame makes him believe that she probably doesn't do that a lot too. His parents would also be pissed if he returned home late so…

Words aren't necessary when he rises from his position and offers the girl a hand. His regretful eyes explain his shame for all the bad-mouths she has heard since her first nerdy appearance back at his school.

"I would kind'a like it if we chatted in a restaurant rather than a freezing forest."

She eyes him, her ashy-blonde bangs dancing along a small gust of wind. Her face seems doubtful for a moment, but she accepts his flustered cheeks and shaky hand and stands up with his aid, smiling with every movement. "I would love to!" She says jokingly. "But of course, I won't decline if the gentleman insists on paying the evening."

He rolls his eyes. "Are you up for a free dinner or should I call a limo for your highness?"

"A limousine for a commoner like me? No such thing, you should call a pumpkin carriage!"

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><p>Yet another small one-shot from yours truly :D Aaaaaaand it's once more in AU -_-<p>

I swear, next one's going to be better


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